


Little Pistol

by Mischiefkingwinkyface



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comforting Sam Winchester, Disassociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Existential Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischiefkingwinkyface/pseuds/Mischiefkingwinkyface
Summary: Castiel struggles with his identity after rebelling. Sam, Dean, and Bobby need to figure out how to help him get through it.Please read the trigger warnings at the top of each chapter.
Kudos: 10





	Little Pistol

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm currently writing to try and deal with my own issues while the country is in lock-down. The second chapter is currently in production, and feel free to comment and stuff. It's always appreciated. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings (please read!):  
> \- Disassociation  
> \- Panic attack (brief)  
> \- Derealism  
> \- Haphephobia

If someone were to ask Castiel just a few years beforehand if he would betray Heaven and spend his days sat in the back of a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, he would have laughed at such a poor joke. That’s why he couldn’t quite process that he was sat in the back of the Impala staring out the window at the empty roads. He found himself plundering what exactly would happen to him come the apocalypse.

Then his heartbeat got loud.

Then it got louder.

And Louder.

And LOUDER.

And L O U D E R.

And- 

“Cas?” Dean’s voice cut the dull pounding to pull Castiel back to reality.

Somehow, at some time, the Impala her been brought to a halt outside Bobby’s house. The door beside Castiel had been opened, and Dean was knelt there with one hand resting on his knee. Both Same and Bobby were hovering worriedly behind him.

The world was fuzzy, as though Castiel was seeing everything through a camera with a smudged lens, and his words felt numb on his lips as he spoke, “Dean? When did… why are… Dean?”

“Let’s get you inside.” Dean signalled Sam closer with the twitch of his head. “Ready?”

There was no opportunity to protest before Castiel was hailed to his feet where Sam caught him by the arms. Something felt wrong when they touched him. It all just felt so wrong.

Very little stimuli managed to reach his actual consciousness as Castiel was bundled inside the house. He was vaguely aware of bickering voices that were soon cut off by Dean snapping, “he was fine when he got in the car!”

It was always Dean’s voice that seemed to cut through the fog. Still, there was a distance between them they Castiel was far from able to cross.

They kept asking him questions he couldn’t answer. Wandering hands covered him, searching every inch for wounds that never really existed. Why couldn’t they see that the harm was not a physical injury?

…why couldn’t they see that it wasn’t really him?

The hands stopped touching him, and Sam and Bobby left Castiel alone with Dean. Castiel was only vaguely aware that they left so that Dean could more efficiently interrogate him. The two sat quietly side by side on Bobby’s sofa for a while Castiel stared at the wall in absolute wonder.

“Talk to me, Cas.” Dean’s eyes bore into him, “you’re freaking me out.”

“Something is wrong,” Castiel whispered, never taking his eyes off a spot on the wall.

“Wrong?” Urgency reached Dean’s voice, taking over the calm, “as in we need to get the salt wrong? Something’s messing with your mojo wrong?”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“How do you know that you’re real?” Castiel glanced over at Dean with complete seriousness that he hoped would shine through.

That question seemed to shock Dean into silence. Silence stretched out for seconds that felt like years. It continued on until Dean finally managed to speak, “jeez, Cas, you having an identity crisis or something?”

Castiel never gave an answer. The angel could do nothing more than recoil when Dean has tried to touch him, sinking into the sofa to try to escape. The last straw was Dean’s hand on his shoulder trying to pull him forward again.

“Don’t touch me!” Castiel screamed. There was a crash as he shot across the room and went straight into a wall.

Sam ran into the room with Bobby close hind. It was obvious that they’d been listening and waiting for something to go wrong. The three men blocked Castiel’s obvious exit.

“Cas?” Sam took a careful step forward, both hands visible, “can you tell us what’s going on?”

Castiel tried to press himself further against the wall. The wall was real. Was it? By that point he couldn’t be sure of anything, or anyone, or even himself. It was all so fuzzy. It was all so wrong. He was wrong.

There was a pause. Then Castiel finally tried to articulate what he’d been thinking, “I think… it might be fear.”

With the best of his wings, Castiel was gone.   
———  
Dean’s keys were in his hand a second later as he rushed towards the door. Sam was already grabbing his coat and running after him. Neither seemed to see the flaw in their plan.

It was Bobby who had to be the voice of reason, as usual, “that angel could be anyway by now. How do you think you’re gunna find him?”

“He can’t have gone far, the guys a mess.” Dean threw a set of car keys to Bobby. “We have to find him.”

They decided that all three of them would take a separate car in a separate direction to search for Castiel. It was agreed that whoever found him first would call for the other two before approaching. No one should try to handle such a distressed angel by themselves.


End file.
